


Interrogation

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Series: Recognition AU [3]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Talon!Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all get answers. Just not necessarily the ones any of them wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation

**Author's Note:**

> Dick doesn’t visit them as much as other Court members do. He really just brings them food. Damian was internally sobbing his eyes out through this whole thing, he’s so upset about everything. This is just 2k words about me avoiding the question of whether he killed Bruce or not, because I haven’t decided yet.

It was a week later. Or, at least Tim thought it was. There was a small window in their dungeon, and the light did change, but it was always gray, and struck Tim as being artificial.

The dungeon itself was barely that. It had all the specifications – cold, stone, with bars separating them from their captors and visitors. But it was small. Smaller than any dungeon Tim had been held in before, a sentiment quietly agreed on by Damian.  It could have been a broom closet in a previous life. Barely big enough for he and the small child it currently housed.

And that was the only plus side of all this. He and Damian were going through this together. Were both forced into a situation where there was no room for petty arguments and grudges. They still weren’t best friends, but they were brothers, and were going to act as such.

And they had been. It was unspoken, but they were going to protect each other the best they could, and with everything they had. Any time they heard the loud echo of the door to the holding area, they both tensed. Prepared to give up everything, should one of their many audiences try and go against the other. Tim had already lost count of how many times Damian jumped in front of him, despite bruises and ailments, just as Tim had forgotten how many times he had grabbed the boy and held him close, angled away from the cell’s door protectively, regardless of the cuts on his arms and weakened windpipe.

But that day – That day a week after their capture. A week after everything went to hell, where their brother reappeared as a monster and Bruce was potentially murdered, _they have no idea_ – was different.

They had been sleeping. On the tiny cot against the wall, Damian tucked away in the corner, underneath Tim’s arm. It was all they could do anymore. No room to train, no energy or strength or even motivation to work to escape, not with their injuries, or the realities crashing around them. Just eat and sleep. And they were light sleepers, even under each other’s protection, so it was inexplicable how they had missed the opening on the prison’s door, how they missed the squeaky opening of their own cell.

It was Damian who noticed first, he must have heard a footstep or a breath. And in hindsight, Tim wondered if it would have happened differently if he hadn’t. If he had remained sleeping, or at the very least kept the knowledge to himself.

Tim was disappointed to believe it wouldn’t have.

His eyes had shot open, darting over Tim’s shoulder as grabbed at his shirt in silent warning. When recognition kicked in, Tim remembered feeling Damian’s fist tighten – which is what made him open his own eyes – before hearing:

“What the hell do _you_ wa-”

Tim’s vision was barely cleared in time to watch a hand flash between them. Watch the clawed glove latch on to Damian’s shoulder and rip him from Tim’s grasp.

He heard the crash before he could even roll over.

Damian was slumped against the wall, blinking dizzily. There was a fresh scrape along his left cheek, a matching scuff on the wall from where his face clearly dragged against it. But more than that, Tim could see the blood melting onto his shoulder – his clearly _dislocated_ shoulder – from where he was grabbed and thrown.  

Dick stood between them, staring down at Tim expectantly.

“It is time to talk.”

Tim gaped, both at his eldest brother and his youngest. It hurt, his heart hurt _so bad._ Because Dick would rather die than hurt them like this. He would rather die than hurt _Damian_ like this.

Dick suddenly stepped forward. And Tim…didn’t feel fear. Not at all. Not right now. Because it had instantly transformed into fury. Fury at the situation, fury at the Court for what they did. Hell, even fury at Dick himself, for letting himself get captured and put through this.

“I said it is time to-”

“I don’t care.” Tim spat, swinging his legs out of the bed and shoving Dick to the side. “You can wait your damn turn.”

He crouched in front of Damian, who glanced up with the eyes of a kicked puppy.

“I’m fine.” Damian whispered as Tim cupped his face, examined the injury. Tiny droplets of blood were blossoming through the shredded skin, and Tim could tell that it stung. “I’ll survive. T-talk to Grayson.”

Damian didn’t fight as Tim pulled him forward, as he tucked the child’s face into his neck and gently slid a hand under his knees to pick him up. He slowly turned back to the bed, glaring daggers at Dick as he sat back down. He kept Damian in his arms, only shifting to move his grip from under Damian’s knees to over them, and neither the boy nor the Talon complained about it.

“Now,” Tim hissed. “What do you want.”

Dick seemed unfazed by Tim’s attitude. “How much do you know about the Court of Owls?”

“Enough.” Tim answered. “I know you’re all delusional maniacs. I know you think you own this city. But you _don’t_.”

Dick frowned. “We are not delusional. We know that Goth-”

“Whatever.” Tim interrupted. “Did you kill him?”

“…What?”

“Bruce Wayne. My father. _His_ father.” He motioned to Damian, who was still conscious, but remaining silent. “ _Your_ father.”

The frown turned into a full scowl. “Do not concern yourself with it.”

“Where are we?” Tim continued. “Why did you bring us here?”

Dick suddenly lunged forward, boxing Tim in with his arms. “ _Stop it.”_

“Stop what?” Tim challenged, strength instantly waning. Despite his demeanor, Tim felt his heart beating rapidly, his emotions coming back into play. This was _Dick_ , this was still his _brother_. This…was someone who would kill them without a second thought.

“ _I_ am asking the questions here.” Dick ordered. “ _You_ will answer.”

“I’ll answer as soon as I have the information I want.” Tim countered harshly, but it belayed his panic. Dick could kill him, right here and now. He could kill Damian even easier. Tim was playing with fire and he could so quickly lose. “You said we needed to _talk_ , not that this was an _interview_.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, glancing between Tim’s own. They suddenly dropped to Damian, who seemed to know he was being watched and flinched under the gaze. Tim involuntarily gulped. Dick could do it again. He could rip Damian from him again, and do more than hurt him this time.

Tim instantly knew that the adrenaline that had fueled him the last few minutes was gone, and any power he had was lost.

But without warning, Dick backed away. Stood up and glanced towards the tiny window above him. “Fine. We will alternate.”

“What?”

“I ask, you answer.” Dick explained. “Then you ask.”

Tim noticed the clear lack of _‘and I answer_.’

“My turn.” Dick continued without waiting for Tim’s agreement. “What is your name?”

“Tim. And he’s Damian.” Tim murmured. “Is Bruce Wayne dead?”

“You already asked that.” Dick responded. “Ask again.”

“Um…” Tim’s mind was floundering. Some way, somehow, he needed to turn this conversation to his advantage once more. “Where are we?”

“In the Court of Owls’ compound. Underneath Gotham.” Dick replied blankly, like he was reciting an encyclopedia entry. “How many allies does the Batman have?”

“I…honestly don’t know. A lot. At least five. As many as…seventy-five? Probably more.” Tim tried. “…Do any of them know what happened to us?”

“They have asked. The one identified as Black Bat has been most insistent.” Dick nodded.

“Yeah, but.” Tim leaned forward. “Did you _tell_ them? Do they _know_? Or did they ask and you just-”

“How many compounds does the Batman have?” Dick continued over Tim’s stumbles. His tone was low and warning. “We are aware of one.”

“Two major ones. Small caches throughout the city. I don’t know the locations.” Tim sighed.

“Interesting. We thought there would be more.” Dick murmured. He glanced back to the bed. “ _Now_ it is your turn.”

Tim couldn’t look at those eyes anymore. He looked down, inhaled sharply as he took in Damian’s face. The blood had continued to ooze, and there were now long trails of it down Damian’s face. It looked worse than it was, but that didn’t stop Tim’s terror.

“I said it is your turn.”

Tim’s mind blanked. In the disappearance of his adrenaline, so went his will. He didn’t want to talk to Dick anymore. He didn’t care about knowing anything. He was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally. He just wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to pretend none of this was happening.

But to his surprise, a question was still asked. Not by him, though. Or by Dick. But by the little boy between them.

“Why didn’t you kill us?”

Tim held his breath. Because that question had been on his mind since Dick had dragged them away from the house, since he’d thrown them into this cell and left them there to be ogled at by other Court members. He’d never asked it though, out of fear Dick would reveal that he didn’t have a reason, that there was no point in his keeping them alive, and end them both right there.

But this was Damian, and he never did anything halfway. He never stepped up with trepidation or hesitation. If he was going in, he was jumping headfirst, consequences be damned.

Dick’s eyes had dropped from Tim to Damian, and Tim saw his hands tighten into agitated fists. He’d been annoyed with him since the manor, since Damian was the first of them to fight _back_.

But it was clear the agreement on questioning was for Tim and Tim alone, and that Dick was trying to decide a suitable punishment, one he could perform without shutting Tim down from responding. When it was clear he couldn’t think of one, at least not fast enough, he huffed and turned his eyes back to the window.

“Leverage. You two are Batman’s Robins. We know that now. If not your own allies, then the Justice League will be looking for you. We could easily control the entire world with a well-placed threat or two against your persons.” Dick listed off. He suddenly gave a light chuckle, and a dark smirk. “That, and a little curiosity on my part, I suppose. The Court was not pleased when I brought you both back alive.”

“I would assume not.”

“I also did not kill you because I see you are talented and strong.” Dick explained. “I believe the word I am thinking of is…feisty.”

It was such a _Dick_ word to use.

“I could train you. Make you better. Teach you the ways of the Court of Owls.” He explained proudly. “You could be Talons too.”

Tim could accept that. He didn’t want to, though. He wanted to dig further, press Dick for a real reason. _Why were you curious? Why were you interested in us? Why do you want us to be Talons with you?_ But the fear held him back. Because the answer might not be what he wanted or hoped. It might not be because Dick had faint memories of them or felt sympathy for children. And Tim didn’t know if he could take that. He didn’t know if he could take his true hero, his eldest brother, one the people he, arguably, loved most, being reduced to this cold shell of a human being.

But Damian, of course, was not the same. And accepting reality was never his strongest virtue.

“…No.” Damian said decisively. “It’s because you are a coward.” Dick spun fiercely around towards him. Damian kept his face pressed against Tim’s throat, and his lack of acknowledgement seemed to agitate Dick further. Suddenly he exhaled, and whispered into Tim’s skin. “Grayson would never act as such.”

Dick stormed at them again, looming dangerously. Tim just stared up at him blankly. Damian still didn’t move. “ _I am not Grayson.”_

“No, you are not.” Damian continued wistfully. “Because Grayson could never be so weak as you clearly are.”

Dick shifted then, claws pointed menacingly as he raised his hand. He was going to hit at least one of them, at least Damian, and Tim wasn’t about to let that happen again. He twisted away on the bed, ducking low to the mattress as he buried his face in Damian’s hair.

“Damian.” He hissed gently, pressing his hand against Damian’s forehead. “Stop it.”

“I want him to leave.” Damian responded miserably. “Drake, I don’t want him here anymore.”

It was such a…babyish request, Tim almost laughed. He almost cried, too.

“He will. Soon. Just be quiet, and let me handle it. Okay?” Tim asked.

He could feel Damian’s pout on his neck. “…He killed Father, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“…My arm hurts.”

“I’ll fix it in a little bit. Now shush.” Tim turned back before Damian could derail him any further. Dick’s hand was no longer raised, his face no longer angry. Just empty and, like he’d said, curious. “I…apologize. For his outburst.”

“It…is fine.” Dick forced out, as he backed away a step. All of the sudden he turned back towards the cell door. “But I think we are done talking for today.”

“Wha…but…” Tim leaned forward, to the point he almost dropped Damian on the ground. He tightened his grip, held Damian even closer, as he shouted. “I still get another question!”

Dick didn’t respond, already reaching out to jerk the gate open once more. His irritation and aggravation rolled off of him in waves, and Tim didn’t want to push it, just in case Dick’s curiosities ran out. In case the leverage they posed for the Court wasn’t as impressive as Dick made it sound. In case they were much more expendable than Dick let them believe.

But still. Damian had taken a chance, so Tim would too.

“…Do you remember us at all, Dick?” Tim whispered, as Dick crossed the threshold to the hallway. Dick paused on the other side, staring absently into the deserted cell across the hallway. He reminded silent for so long, Tim almost thought he didn’t hear the question, and prepared to ask it once more. But suddenly Dick blinked, slammed the door closed, and turned towards the dungeons’ exit.

“No.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Other Recognition AU things](http://fishfingersandjellybabies.tumblr.com/tagged/recognition+au)   
> 


End file.
